Little did she know that he hadn’t had one in quite a while. Not since her. And even the thought of her as a mistress… it caused his blood to race yet spike with a dangerous pitch. It raced for the knowledge what would take place if she were his mistress, and it spiked in thinking that she’d be nothing more.
Mistresses were ignored when their… service wasn’t necessary.
Mistresses were paid company.
Mistresses were never married. Ever.
And Charles would fight the devil himself if another gentleman ever thought of bringing her under his protection. Which inevitably happened with mistresses. A man grew bored with one, so he traded in for another, leaving the previous mistress to find a new protector.
To think of Carlotta in such a state, it made his blood run cold. And his fists ached to beat someone.
To bad right now the only person to blame was himself. He couldn’t rightly call himself out.
What a bloody mess.
“Charles?” Lady Southridge’s voice called to him.
Just for good measure, he thumped his head a few more times against the door. If he passed out then he wouldn’t have to speak with her… he could claim temporary memory loss and forget that the disaster that just happened with Carlotta didn’t even happen. Better yet, he could hit his head hard enough to actually cause memory loss and he’d be ignorant.
But alas, fate was never kind… at least to him.
“Charles?”
“Here. In hell. Come join me,” he responded as he backed away and pulled open his study door.
“What on earth are you doing? And what is that odd thumping noise?” Lady Southridge asked as she regarded him with some alarm.
“Me beating myself. Come, I’m feeling especially charitable and I’ll give you a stick so that you might join in the fun,” he muttered.
“What did you do now?” Lady Southridge shook her head and made herself comfortable on the settee.
The same settee where Carlotta sat.
“Charles… are you particularly fond of this piece of furniture? If it upsets you so, I will not…”
“No, no. Please sit.” He shook his head and trudged over to the chair near the fire.
“I met your Miss Carlotta.” Lady Southridge leaned forward, her eyes bright and… knowing.
“Delightful.” Charles tried to muster a proper response but he couldn’t find the strength.
“I must say, I expected more of a response. I’ll have to try harder. Perhaps you can help me. You see… I caught up with her as she was leaving this very hallway, her eyes suspiciously red rimmed.”
“You don’t say,” Charles replied dryly.
“Indeed. In fact…”
Charles stared into the fire, waiting for her to begin her inquisition.
“I do believe she was foxed!” Lady Southridge’s eyes were wide with conviction.
“Foxed?” Charles swung around to face her, his jaw dropping in shock. “Foxed you say?” he repeated again.
Such an outrageous thought needed repeating.
Rather, it probably shouldn’t have been repeated. Or stated in the first place.
“Foxed,” she said again, her head nodding in affirmation.
“She was not foxed.” Charles felt compelled to defend.
“How can you be sure? Why, you’d be shocked at how many servants—”
“I’m quite aware of what servants do when they feel no one is watching… my own valet has sampled my French brandy a time or two… but Car—Miss Carlotta wouldn’t. I’m sure of it.”
“But how can you be so sure?” Lady Southridge asked, her arms folded.
“Because… she just wouldn’t.” Charles huffed indignantly.
“And that is all the credibility you can give to the subject?” she asked.
“No. But that’s all I’m willing to share on the subject.” Charles stood and paced in front of the fire.
“I shall investigate myself.” Lady Southridge shrugged and stood as if to leave.
“You will do no such thing. You will not even mention that you thought so ill of her, let alone investigate her. You will leave her alone. Am I understood?” He spoke with a steel edge to his voice, one he couldn’t ever remember using on Lady Southridge.
“My, you are in knots over this girl… I had expected it of course but… hmm.” She paused and regarded him. “The only other explanation I can think of for her countenance was tears. But of course… you’d never make her cry… would you, Charles?” Lady Southridge didn’t move and her expression remained unaltered.
But Charles smelled the blood in the water.
His own blood.
And she was a circling shark that had just trapped its prey.
Pity the prey was him.
“I—”
“Because if a gentleman cares for a lady… regardless of her station… she should never have cause for tears.” Lady Southridge began to circle about the room. Walking to the same window, she lightly touched the tapestry where Carlotta had hidden only minutes ago.
Apparently, she wasn’t joking about her suspicion of his affection for Carlotta. He was taken off balance by the full realization that Lady Southridge was championing her, siding with her.
Against him.
If Lady Southridge approved…
“I’m not quite as ignorant as you might imagine Charles,” she commented lightly.
Charles closed his eyes in both humiliation and prayer. His reverent yet soundless whispers to the Almighty begged for the ground to swallow him.
Better yet, swallow Lady Southridge.
He opened one eye just in case, but nothing.
Damn.
Lady Southridge continued to watch him, studying him with far more awareness and likely accuracy than he appreciated. But there was nothing to do but wait it out.
“So tell me, what are your reservations?” Lady Southridge spoke curiously.
“Reservations?”
“I’ve not been living on a rock, Charles. While your conquests of late,” she said, eying him meaningfully, “are of the more notorious variety. You’ve never been one to hide your nature… or your actions. At least from anyone who would have the courage to ask.”
“What are you getting at?” Charles snapped, losing his patience.
“That there must be something about this governess that you find so necessary to keep secret that you resort to hiding her behind curtains to keep her from view. And in all my time in knowing you… which has been a very long time indeed, I have never known you to hide anything… even that which is shameful and you rather should hide.” Her eyes widened as she spoke the last phrase, her tone wry and reproachful.
“You think I’m ashamed of her?” Charles asked dubiously.
“I’m quite certain of it… and if my instincts are correct, I imagine she feels somewhat similar.” She raised an eyebrow.
“Of all the…” Charles ran his fingers through his dark hair, resisting the urge to pull it out.
Women.
“I was trying to protect her! Not just hide her for my own… I don’t even want to speculate what answer you could come up with.” He blew out a frustrated breath.
“Protect her? From whom?” Lady Southridge asked, disbelief in her tone.
“You.”
“Pardon?” she asked, her eye narrowing.
And this is why I hid her…
“Restraint is not in your repertoire, Lady Southridge. You would have seen her and pounced.”
“I’m not a house cat, Charles,” she replied bitterly, and with an ungracious acknowledging shake of her head.
“I’d compare you more to a lioness myself,” he teased.
“So I’m to blame? I find this a little farfetched.” She sniffed indignantly.
“For the hiding… yes.” Charles nodded then turned to face the fire, hoping his answer would eliminate her further questions.
He really should have known better.
“Then why,
pray tell, did the poor creature dissolve into tears once I left? I said nothing.” She paused as if remembering her words. “Very well, I might have not been the soul of discretion but I didn’t say anything that would cause tears. Of that I’m sure.”
He remained silent.
“Charles,” Lady Southridge warned.
“You haven’t even met her, why are you on her side?”
“I’m not about sides I’m about finding you a suitable wife!”
“I don’t need your help!”
“Yes you do! She ran from the room crying!”
“I don’t want your help!”
“You don’t get a choice.”
“And this is why I hid her from you!”
“Because you don’t want me to ruin your chances?”
“No I just—”
“You what, Charles,” Lady Southridge snapped back.
“I didn’t want her to face your disapproval.” There, he said it. And already he felt miserable.
“Disapproval?” Lady Southridge repeated, her tone shocked and hurt.
“Must I repeat myself?” he answered tiredly.
“No. I believe you were perfectly clear. Upon my word, Charles. Is this how you treat her?”
“No, I treat her much worse, apparently. After all, I did dissolve her to tears only a moment before you arrived. And here you stand, completely tearless… I must try harder,” he replied sarcastically, with venom.
“Anger will get you nowhere, Charles. The truth however, might have some promise.”
“I told you the truth.”
“No, you told me a portion. The real question is… why would I not approve?” she asked, her head tilted thoughtfully.
“Must you truly ask that?”
“Apparently.”
Charles felt his shoulders sag; his body weary from traveling now seemed almost as if it were full of lead rather than blood. And lucky him, this was the day that would last for eternity.
“Because… she’s a bloody governess! Do you want the truth? I’m miserably wretched for her because I know I’m not good enough for her. My title, my money, my connections. Nothing of it is worth a farthing because it matters not in the truest of things. She is far better than I, yet I cannot pursue her because a match between us is insupportable because I’m a duke… and far poorer in character than she deserves.” Charles walked numbly to the chair closest to the fire and sank into it, sagging his head to be cradled in his hands.
“Oh.” Lady Southridge’s voice grated on his last fraying nerve.
He had just bared his bloody wretched and blasted —and any other apprehensible adjectives relevant— soul to the miserable woman and all she could say was “oh”?
All he wanted was a never-ending decanter of brandy and to forget today existed.
Ever.
Ever. Ever.
Expect for that kiss.
That he wished to remember… simply nothing else of the mess that followed.
“Charles?” Lady Southridge’s voice pulled him from the pool of self-pity in which he was currently swimming.
“Yes?” he asked, his voice muffled by his hands as they still held his head.
“You are an idiot.”
“Your support is overwhelming. As each moment passes I’m increasingly thankful I brought you along,” he replied toneless.
“You should be thankful I’m here to fix the miserable mess you call your life. To think, you, a rake. Ha! I laugh at such outrageous claims. You, sir, have no clue about women or love or anything beyond what takes place between the sheets.” She tsked her tongue.
“I do believe your language was not becoming of a lady,” he said dryly.
“I do believe that your behavior is abhorrent. However, there is hope for you still.”
“I’m glad someone is of that conviction. I, myself, am contemplating other options.”
“Never can expect brilliance from a duke.”
“I have no response to that statement in my current state, but I will think of an excellent reply which I will unleash and fillet you with later.” Charles glanced up at her, a scowl firmly in place.
“My heart quivers.” She put her hand up to her forehead, mockingly. “So… the almighty Duke of Clairmont has fallen. I do believe it is a time for miracles to abound. And before you make any more snide comments—” She held up a hand as he made to open his mouth. “—while she is a governess… I have reason to believe that she is not just a governess. I made a few inquiries while we were in London. What I can’t believe is that you did so little research into her background.”
“She came to us on excellent recommendation,” Charles defended.
“Yes, from her solicitor, Mr. Burrows.”
“No, my solicitor.”
“Her’s as well. How do you think she knew of the opening so quickly?”
Actually, he had never thought that deeply about the subject.
“Why in the world would Carlotta have a solicitor?”
“Why indeed?” Lady Southridge raised an eyebrow.
“You obviously have some knowledge of which I’m not aware of… yet. Are you inclined to share or must I be left in suspense?”
“I’m considering suspense, but I’m going to take pity on you.”
“I do appreciate being pitied.”
She gave him a withering glare.
“I have a question that is a prerequisite for my discloser of information.”
“Delightful.”
“I want to meet her first.”
“That’s not a question. Regardless, the answer is no.”
“Then I’ll keep my information.”
“Damn it.”
“Such language!”
“We both know you are not shocked. Don’t pretend that I offended your delicate sensibilities. We both know those do not exist either.”
“You are in fine form,” she remarked none too gently.
“You have provoked me to that place, Madam,”
“Please. I wish to meet her.” Her tone was quiet, pleading.
And completely out of character.
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“In the light of such persuasive argument, I must reconsider,” he replied dryly.
“Charles, you cannot imagine how long I have waited and hoped against all odds that you might be capable of love.”
“Your faith in me is humbling.”
“If you had seen your life from my perspective, I don’t think you’d come to any different of a conclusion. But now I find myself realizing that hope, that there truly is a woman able to ensnare your attention to the point of idiotic behavior that is vastly unlike you under normal circumstances. Based on what I know of her, she is unlikely to be a fortune hunter. If she is a governess, she’d be well aware that her chances of attracting the matrimonial attitude of a man of quality are slim. Especially that of a duke. And if she were trying to trap you, I’m quite sure you’d smell that plan a mile away. After all, you have been fighting off those type of women since the cradle.”
“Carlotta is not a fortune hunter. She doesn’t…” He trailed off, not sure if he wanted to disclose his intimate knowledge with Lady Southridge.
“She doesn’t… what, Charles?” She waited patiently, her expression open but Charles knew the curiosity was likely eating her alive.
“It’s of no import.”
“I find that difficult to swallow. The truth, if you please.” She held out her hand magnanimously.
“I swear, this, this emotional upheaval is why men pity others of our sex who have fallen in love. Never have I had so much need for brandy in all my life.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the back cushion.
“This sounds promising.”
Charles didn’t speak.
“I will continue to poke and prod the subject till you tell me, this is your fair warning.”
“You are a mi
serable wretch.”
“I’m still waiting.”
“She doesn’t even want me. That, is how I know she isn’t a fortune hunter. And she’s not playing coy either. I could easily see through that masquerade. But no, the woman I finally think could reform my wicked ways wants nothing to do with them. Though if I were in her position, I’d likely make the same choice. It’s far wiser. I have nothing save a title and money to offer her. While that would be far more than what most women would desire in a husband, that and, if I say so myself, I’m quite dashing and handsome…” He grinned wryly, though his heart ached. His attempt at humor fell flat to his own ears.
“So, let me see if I have grasped the situation correctly.”
“Yes, please summarize my pathetic existence. I’d love to hear it from your gracious perspective. And I thought the day couldn’t get worse,” he mumbled.
“Life is what you make of it. You, of all people, have no excuse. You’ve been given everything. Don’t be so pathetic to find something, someone that requires far more effort on your part and only roll over and quit. You are better than that, Charles.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Giving up? I’m here aren’t I? Believe me, I was trying, trying to do the noble thing and keep myself away! Then you had to barge into my life, inject yourself into the middle of my dilemma and now here I stand, completely at odds with all that I thought I was doing that was correct and I find I was wrong? I can’t pursue her! I can’t offer for her, and I’ll not degrade her with offering less. Nor will I tolerate you inspecting her like a brood mare. I don’t even feel as though I make sense any longer.” He stood up abruptly and paced about the room.
“Sit, Charles.”
“I’m not your pet.”
“No, you’re like my son, and while you are doubting my intentions, I promise you that there is a solution and one that will find you quite happily able to pursue your governess. Now, will you please sit and cease your infernal pacing?”
Charles glared, but sat.
“Now. Before you introduce me, I need you to understand something. While your title does put certain… obligations… on your future wife, those are not set in concrete. Your claim that you cannot pursue her based on her position is nothing short of being a coward. So that excuse is no longer valid. Next—”She paused, subjecting Charles to a very patient glare. “You must choose if you truly desire this woman. I can see, based on your testimony of her virtues, that she is no light skirt or one to dally with. You must choose your words and ways wisely. Under your employ, she will be put in a very difficult position should you choose to try and win her affections. Finally—”
What the Duke Wants Page 12
